


Hagiography

by Euterpein



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blasphemy, Coffee Shops, Getting Together, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Saints, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpein/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: Aziraphale has an unexpected conversation that makes him reexamine the barriers between himself and his oldest enemy-slash-dearest friend.-or-How come we never talk about the fact that some humans have powers??
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #12 “Saints"





	Hagiography

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SOSH server's "Guess that Author" game! The prompt was "Saints."
> 
> I don't know how old-timey speech works and I refuse to learn. Enjoy!

#  **_And Lo, that the Saint thus spake:_ **

“Have you ever thought about asking them out?” 

The man’s attention snapped up to her. “I’m sorry, my dear, what was that?”

“The person you were thinking about just now. Have you thought about asking them out?”

The man sputtered. “I’m _sure_ I don’t know what you mean, my dear,” he said, cheeks pink. “I wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular. No-one at all. In fact, I was reminiscing about the novel I’ve just started reading.” He tugged at his lapels in a very obvious nervous gesture.

#  **_But the Saint was not to be deceived, for She saw only Truth._ **

Imani just shrugged. “If you say so,” she said, carrying on steaming the milk for the man’s cocoa. “Only your aura’s all pink around the edges.” 

“My aura?” He man seemed less incredulous and more confused, which was a nice change. “It’s...that is, you can see it?”

“Yup,” she said, plopping his finished cocoa down on the counter. “Any idea why it’s so big?”

He cleared his throat. “Er--no idea.” 

“Sure.” She crossed her arms, looking him up and down. “So have you?”

“Have I?”

“Thought about asking them out.”

More nervous fidgeting, this time with the lid of the cup he’d just picked up. Imani thought idly that he’d be the best possible person to play at poker. “It’s...I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that.”

“Isn’t it always?” She peered at him a moment. He wore his emotions plainly, hardly any need for aura reading, but the images were coming through too warped to interpret. The memories felt _stretched_ , almost. She hummed. “So what’s stopping you, exactly?”

“It was...we were enemies. For quite a long time, actually. It wouldn’t have been possible.”

Imani raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m only hearing the past tense, there.”

He looked almost startled at that. “Well, yes, there was a bit of a...a dust-up recently and it...changed some things. Rather important things.”

“So I guess I’ll ask that question again, then,” she said, cocking her head and smiling at him. “What’s stopping you?”

#  **_And the Saint did thus cast Her holy gaze upon him, and Lo, he did See._ **

His mouth opened, then shut again. “He--he might not like me,” he finally managed. “Like that, I mean.”

She peered at him again. “You don’t believe that.”

“...No.” His aura was warbling back and forth between an acrid, sulphurous yellow and a tentative, glowing gold; fear and hope swirling around one another, so close as to be almost one. “No, I...I suppose I don’t.”

“Well then,” Imani said, “there you have it.” 

“Yes. I suppose I do.” The man took a sip from his cocoa, almost absently. His aura was rapidly changing, the glowing gold of hope billowing out and nearly overtaking the swirl of fear lodged near his chest. “I suppose I do.”

Imani smiled as he walked away, then turned to greet the next customer.

Her job was done. 


End file.
